The Space between

Thursday 2/13/2025

The Space Between

The morning air was cold, but I didn’t notice. I was already moving, already running too fast for this to feel like a warm-up. My breath came hard, sharp against the exhaust of passing cars. The force from the pavement echoed under my feet, the sound swallowed up by the hum of traffic, engines accelerating, brakes squealing.

I wasn’t thinking, not in any structured way. Just feeling. Or maybe running to escape feeling. My pace was erratic. I went fast, then faster, then suddenly slowing, only to surge again. It wasn’t about splits or effort or form. It was about getting out of my head, about burning through whatever was thrashing around inside me before it could settle in too deep.

This was supposed to be an easy day, but I didn’t care. My legs turned over like they had something to prove, like if I ran hard enough, long enough, I could outrun the weight pressing down on my chest. I had spent the weekend in Arizona, crewing Black Canyon 100K with the boys, laughing under the desert sky, feeling like a piece of something bigger. That kind of joy sticks with you, but so does this moment as it fades.

By the time I got home, everything was different.

The day stretched on. I barely noticed time passing, just the slow, creeping drain that settles in after an effort like that. I wouldn’t say the physical kind, but the kind that comes when your body has long since recovered, but your mind hasn’t.

As the sun began to dip, I laced up again.

This time, there was no urgency. No traffic. No noise. Just me and the open land stretching toward the mountains. I took the trail from the house, easing onto the mesa, where the dirt rolled soft underfoot, and the wind carried nothing but stillness. The sky was changing from a winter blue, melting into light pastel hues, the last light spilling over Eldorado Canyon like it had been waiting for me to arrive.

I slowed, then slowed even more, until I was barely running at all. Just moving. Just being here.

Somewhere between the morning’s fire and the evening’s quiet, there was something else. Not an answer. Not yet. But space. And maybe, for now, that was enough.